


lions with blue mane

by OtherCat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Derse/Prospit Royalty, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Crack, Forced Marriage, Kingdomstuck, Marriage by Abduction, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: A generation ago, Skaia was conquered by the Prospiti barbarians, with aid from the Alternian Empire. For that same amount of time, there have been continuous border skirmishes between Skaia and Derse. The war takes a new turn when the youngest member of the Derse royal family is taken in battle.OrAfter capturing the youngest son of the rulers of Derse in battle, the Prospiti heirs of Skaia decide they want to complete the set.
Relationships: Alpha Kids/Beta Kids
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Wolf Totem" by The Hu. It has otherwise nothing to do with the story.

Dave woke muzzily to the sound of unfamiliar music, in an unfamiliar room. His body was a distant sort of ache, that the music seemed to soothe somewhat. He knew immediately that this wasn’t his own room, nor was this any temple of healing, where even the private rooms intended for nobles tended to be spare and sterile. This room was full of a brilliant opulence. Bright wall hangings, a large bed more firm than he was used to, the glint of gold leaf to the furniture. There were hanging glass and gold filigree lanterns, and sconces of candles burning in the windowless room. There’s a fire burning low in the fireplace, and a copper teapot on a tripod in the fire.

In the sleepy way of someone who is injured, and dosed well past their ears on pain medication, he studies the source of the music. There’s a girl seated in the chair by the fire, playing a strange long necked, bowed instrument with only two strings and a carved horse head at the end of the neck. Her skin is a sun-warm gold and her hair is black and long, held back by a headdress but the rest hanging loose. The fire throws reddish highlights into it. Her slender fingers and bow are clever and skilled, somehow wringing complex melody out of the simple seeming instrument. Dave is fascinated, while also feeling unease beneath the honey haze of what he realizes must be a massive amount of drugs. 

“Prospiti,” Dave says in a sleepy mutter. The girl was Prospiti, and a growing alarm fills him, burning away some of the haze. However comfortable he was right now, his injuries only vague aches, he was a prisoner. 

The girl looked up at the sound of his voice. Her eyes were almond-shaped and very green and she wore spectacles. Her smile reveals the large, slightly crooked teeth the old Skaian royal family had been famous for. He has a feeling he knows who this girl must be, and the realization sends a cold terror all through him. 

She wore the clothes of a Prospiti nomad, a long tunic over trousers, a heavily embroidered over tunic, boots. “You’re awake!” she says, and sets aside the bow and instrument. “How do you feel?” The girl asks. Her voice is soft, and her Dersite accented, but pleasant on the ear.

Dave sorts through a number of potential responses, finally settling on, “confused.” 

The girl laughs quietly. “You fell hard after I shot your horse out from under you,” she says. “I’m not surprised you’re confused! You broke your legs, and your hip. Our healers fixed you right up, though you’ll need to stay in bed for now and rest.” She approaches the bed. “My name is Jade, second princess of Skaia. Are you hungry? Thirsty?” 

“Yes to both,” Dave says, heart sinking at the confirmation. They must know or guess who he must be, if he’s being attended by a princess. They will want ransom, and it would be ruinous if he couldn’t find a way out of it. His father was going to kill him, probably literally for this complete disaster. His first real battle, and he’s captured by the enemy. “Your highness.” 

(Whatever they were going to feed him, it was almost certainly going to be drugged. On the other hand, he wasn’t exactly willing to starve himself, just yet, and the room he was in wasn’t exactly a dungeon cell.) 

Jade helps him sit up, and then pours him a cup of tea. The cup is delicate Alternian porcelain, decorated with running horses. The tea has ginger in it, other spices, and milk, which might or might not be covering drugs. Despite his wariness, he sips the hot tea which cuts through the gummy dried out feeling of his mouth and throat. 

The princess sends for food, and a servant arrives quickly with a sort of savory porridge topped by a poached egg, and thin strips of meat that didn’t look like bacon. (It was mutton, marinated in something spicy but also sweet.) He’s not surprised they don’t allow him a fork. Jade perches to his right on the bed, watching him eat.

“I didn’t know you Prospiti treated your prisoners so well,” Dave says as he eats. “I would have gotten captured sooner.” 

“It’s not every day we capture a prince of Derse,” Jade says with a cheerful smile. “You’re not going to try lying about it, are you? You look just like the youngest prince.” 

“All we pale ass Dersites look alike though. Especially the nobles, all that inbreeding takes its toll, you know?” Dave asks. “We all look alike except for the ones born with two heads and hare lips.”

The princess gives him a wide eyed look of disappointment. (And possibly also mockery. Dave had the distinct impression he was being played with.) “You mean you’re _not_ the prince? Oh no! We sent the wedding price along with the ransomed prisoners!” 

Something screeches to a halt in Dave’s brain at that. “...Wedding price,” he says blankly. 

“Twenty mares from my own herd, seven chests with gold and silver ingots, one hundred bolts of Alternian spidersilk shot with crystal threads, and a hundred sheep! That’s too much for an ordinary knight! Jane will never let me hear the end of it, no matter how pretty you are!”

“Pretty” flies by, something that should definitely be of concern, but Dave is still focused on wedding price. “Wedding price” seemed even more concerning than being considered pretty by a Prospiti princess. “Wedding price,” he repeats, not really able to put together a question, such as _what the hell is going on?_

“How embarrassing!” the princess continues in a dismayed voice that sounds less than genuine. “From the way the other soldiers were fighting toward you, I was certain you had to be the prince! Apparently you _do_ look all alike, so much so you can’t tell _each other_ apart!”

“Who looks all alike?” A second voice says. The voice belongs to a boy the same age as the princess. His eyes are a bright blue behind rectangular spectacles, he was also dressed as a Prospiti. 

“He says’s he’s not Prince Dave,” the princess says. “Dersites look so much alike they can’t even tell each other apart! I was so sure he had to be the prince, and now I overpaid for a knight. Jane is going to be _unbearable_.”

“Well, he might not just be a knight,” the boy says. He gives Dave a considering look. “What’s your name and rank?” he asks. 

“David Fursz, baronet of Fortinbras,” Dave lies. 

“Baronet isn’t that much better than a knight, John!” Jade says with huff. 

The boy--John apparently--looks amused. (Dave recalls that the name of the “second prince” of Skaia was John.) “I guess the rumors that the Dersites were sending the prince to the borders for war training were mistaken. What are we going to do with him? Put him in with the unransomed men?” 

_“Keep him?”_ the princess asks, exasperated. “We sent the wedding price!” 

“He’s only a baronet though,” John says. 

“I did not buy a really expensive farm laborer John!” the princess says. 

John looks thoughtful at that. He sits down to the left of Dave. “Well that’s true. We’ll have to see what Jane and Jake say. They’re the first princess and first prince,” Prince John says by way of explanation. “Of course, they might not need to say anything, if our baronet is actually the prince!” 

“I’m not. And I’m already betrothed. Practically married,” Dave says with increased nervousness. “Got my trousseau all put together and everything. We’re at war why would you even want to marry me--the prince. I mean the prince. My prince. Not me.” 

“Well, it might take care of the war, for one thing,” Prince John says with a smile full of teeth. 

“The war’s going to continue as long as you barbarians have usurped Skaia from its rightful rulers,” Dave says. The words sound a lot braver and less shaky in his head than outside of it. 

“Oooh, ouch,” Princess Jade says. “We’re absolutely the rightful rulers though! Great-grandmothers married two Prospit princes.” 

“After conquering the kingdom and sacking the capitol,” Dave pointed out. “Then raiding the borders of Derse for the next sixty years.” 

“That would be a fair statement, if Derse hadn’t been raiding Skaia in return,” John says. “But you were!” 

“Derse was coming to the aid of Skaia, it wasn’t _raiding_ ,” Dave says. 

“Nope! Definitely raids!” Princess Jade says cheerfully. “As barbarians, we’re expert on raids, right John?” John chuckled. “We are simply the best there is at raiding, just ask the Empire.” 

“I’d rather not,” Dave says. “And I don’t remember consenting to wedding a Prospiti princess, or signing a betrothal agreement.” 

“We sent the wedding price,” Princess Jade said, as if this countered his objection. “Do you think the King of Derse _won’t_ want a marriage alliance if we offer it?” 

“Especially after Jade sent those mares as part of the wedding price!” Prince John says. “Skaian warm bloods crossed with our ponies, with a little bit of Alternian hoofbeast thrown in.” 

“I just followed Grandfather’s breeding plan,” Princess Jade protests. “And we’re getting off the subject. What are we going to do about the lack of a prince?” She gave Dave a glance that said, _what are we going to do about this baronet?_

“Well the actual prince hasn’t turned up according to the Whisper, unless he’s hiding among the unransomed men,” Prince John says. “They’re going to be sent my and Jade’s lands as farm laborers,” John explained. “I don’t suppose you have much experience with growing and harvesting wheat? Tending sheep or goats? Cows?” 

“I’m better at managing a small holding, that’s what I was learning before I was called up by my lord to fight,” He was already planning his escape from whatever plantation he was confined to. If he could be put with the unransomed men…his father would still probably kill him, but he’d get points for his escape. If he were able to escape. “I can take care of horses, though.” 

Prince John’s smile was slightly evil. “Well, how about we do this then,” he says. “You absolutely owe us because of the wedding price. She essentially ransomed you, so you owe her for everything.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Dave mutters. “At all.” 

“Hush. Now, our parents want this marriage alliance, but the sad lack of a prince makes that alliance difficult! But, if we had a prince to be married to, we could sign a treaty with Derse and stop the back and forth raiding,” John says. “This is where you come in, of course. Since all Derse look alike, you could impersonate the prince. Once the wedding is over you can retire to either Jade’s lands or mine, and we put you in charge of a farm that’s pretty much guaranteed to be three times the size of whatever teeny patch of land you were going to inherit!” 

“Or you could not agree to impersonate the prince, and spend the rest of your life in chains, mucking out stables,” Jade says. “Your choice!” Both Jade and John get up from the bed. “We’ll give you a chance to think about it!” Jade says, and both she and her brother leave the room, taking the tray of food with them. 

Dave, more than a little dazed, falls back on the bed, not knowing what he’s gotten into. Should he go along with this? Did they really believe that he wasn’t the prince? (He really doubted this.) Would his father agree to this ridiculous “wedding” plan? (Would he be able to escape if he went along with this?) Despite the case of nerves he was experiencing, he drifts back to sleep, dreaming of horses. (Was it true Alternian horses were horned, and ate meat?) 

When he awoke again, Princess Jade had returned, this time in the company of a slightly older young woman with pale blue eyes. Her dark hair was elaborately braided and she wore a gown instead of the costume of a nomad. The young woman studies him intently. “He is very pretty, especially now that he doesn’t look half-dead,” she says, sounding amused. “Hello, I’m Jane, first princess of Skaia, and Jade’s cousin.” 

“I guess I’d be pleased to meet you under different circumstances, like where I wasn’t your prisoner,” Dave says. He almost winces, expecting to get in trouble for mouthing off, but both Jade and Jane look amused. 

“You’re either brave or very reckless,” Jane says. “In either case, there’s a certain charm to that. Jade explained the situation, so I suppose the primary question is, are you willing to be our prince, or not?”

Jade explained the situation. Did that mean Princess Jade did think Dave was telling the truth about not being the youngest prince of Derse, or not? “I guess I’m whatever you want me to be, as long as I don’t end up shoveling shit,” Dave says, not admitting to anything, either way.

Jane chuckles. 

“Also, I thought I was supposed to be marrying her highness over there. Why am I suddenly ‘our’ anything?” Dave asks. 

“Prospiti clan marriages start with groups of siblings or other close relatives,” the princess says. 

“Holy shit and I was making incest jokes,” Dave mutters. 

Jane frowns at him and seems about to speak, but Jade interjects. “How is it incest if we’re marrying you, idiot?” 

“Why are you marrying me if I’m an idiot,” Dave returns. 

“I’m hoping the prince is smarter,” Jade says. “It’s not incest. Siblings or cousins sharing spouses as a group is how we make sure our children and elders always have someone to look after them if something happens to one of us within the marriage. It’s also supposed to ensure there’s less fighting over inheritances, but I haven’t noticed that.” 

“Spend less time among your herds and more time mediating disputes among the Skaian nobility and you would change your tune,” Jane mutters. 

“So, I’m not just impersonating the prince, I’m also his proxy,” Dave says. “And he’s marrying two princesses.” 

“We have brothers, Sir David,” Jade says patiently. “The prince is also marrying my brother and Jane’s brother.” 

“Oh.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The two princesses leave after the elder of the two examines him. Apparently she was a healer by training, and had been one of the healers who had worked on mending his broken bones after he had been captured. Her hands are warm, but the touch of her magic is cool and faintly pale blue, almost the color of her eyes. He’s given tea, some soup, and what are definitely powerful painkillers, and he goes back to sleep. 

When he wakes back up, Prince John is in the room, along with a small crowd of humans and trolls. “Oh hey, he’s finally awake,” John says. “You can get him fitted for his wedding clothes.” 

“I do have other clients,” A tall troll says. One of her horns has a hook, the other a slender spike. Her dress has jade-green embroidery, matching her eyes. “And this is taking time from other projects, though admittedly, talking to you is generally a pleasure your highness.” 

“Also I tip well,” John says. 

“Yes, that to,” the troll says, sounding amused. The troll turns toward Dave. “Good evening your highness,” the troll says with a polite inclination of her head. “My name is Kanaya Maryam, I’m a tailor--”

“Royal tailor,” John says. 

“I’ll be fitting you for the wedding,” Kanaya says, more or less ignoring John. There’s a snort of laughter over by the door. There are two soldiers guarding the door, wearing the livery of the royal house of Skaia. The one who laughed is a short, broad shouldered troll with nub horns and bright scarlet eyes.

“John, she’s never going to accept official royal patronage, give it up,” the nub horned troll says. 

“Uuuuuuuugh Maryams,” the prince replied. “Whyyyyyyyy.” 

“I feel like I’m walking in on the third scene second act of a play,” Dave says. “Here I am, interrupting the action without a goddamn clue of what’s going on holding a cup of mulled cider like a jackass.” 

“The Maryams won’t accept royal patronage,” The red-eyed guard says. “The royal family has been insisting otherwise since forever.” 

“They’ll take us as client but they’re too good for us,” the prince complains, much to the seamstress’ apparent amusement. “That is _literally_ true,” John says with considerably melodrama. “Maryam ultimate is some kind of saint.” 

“Highness,” Kanaya says with a sigh. “If I could do my job instead of playing the steadfast to your japery?” 

“Bluh,” the prince says. “Can we do my fitting as well? To save time?” 

“If you can manage not to fidget, your highness,” Kanaya says. 

“I’ll be still as a statue,” the prince promises, though the way he bounces slightly on the balls of his feet belies his promise. 

“Be still as a dress form at least, your highness,” Kanaya says as the servants--or apprentices?--descend on both the prince and Dave. 

The wedding color is red and the tailors manage to take their measurements without jostling Dave. (He wonders if they’ve had practice outfitting injured bridegrooms.) While he’s being measured, and cloth is being cut and selected Dave watches John getting stripped out of his clothes and into something like a divided skirt, and layers of robes, all of them shades of red. Dave would almost suspect that this was some kind of weird ‘tempt the captive bridegroom with irresistible beauty of captor’ thing except John is a gawky boy his own age, with years yet to grow into his full height. 

“Would you like something more Skaian or Dersite for your wedding attire, your highness?” the tailor asks, and it takes Dave a moment to realize, yes, that’s him, and she’s asking him about his wedding costume preferences. 

“Skaian I guess, don’t know if you’re all up in the current mode with Derse fashion,” Dave says. It’s a little scary how the troll’s eyes light up. (And how absolutely horrified the servants look. And the way John snorts a laugh.)

“My good sir,” the tailor says, drawing herself up to her full and very impressive height. “Challenge _accepted._ ” 

There was going to be so much fucking lace and velvet involved. 

Probably also a ruff, if Dave wasn’t careful.

After the tailor and her apprentices and servants have bundled up their fabrics and sewing boxes and absconded, it’s just Dave, John, and the two guards. They are apparently Dave’s guards. “Think of them as an honor guard,” John says. 

“My honor can use all the protection it can get,” Dave says in a sarcastic drone. “Heavily armed protection; that’s definitely what my honor needs.” The troll snorts while the other soldier, a dark haired woman a little older than the prince with short hair, actually giggles. 

“This is Sir Karkat Vantas and Dame Joey Claire,” John says. “She’s my cousin, and he’s a fussy hen.” 

“Slander. I am a fussy goddamn _cockerel_ ,” Vantas says.

“Pleased to meet you,” Dave says. The soldiers--knights--both incline their heads in respectful, abbreviated bows.

“Today I thought it would be great to show you around, and you still need to meet Jake,” John says. “And Father and Grandmother.” 

“Can’t forget to meet my in-laws, or one of my future spouses,” Dave mutters. “Can’t see that going wrong at all. Let’s parade our hereditary enemy that we plan to marry all over the palace and let him in range of our king.” 

“I can’t see attacking Da or my Nanna going too well for you,” John says. “You’re still hurt, and you won’t get very far if you try to run. Anyway, you said you were going to cooperate.” 

“If you make good on your promise,” Dave says, circling back to his earlier denial of being the youngest Dersite prince, and the agreement to “impersonate” him. He was still pretty sure he was being fucked with, though he couldn’t be certain. “I am not sure I can trust you. Not like I have anything in writing, either.” 

“We’re absolutely going to make good,” John says. “If we actually get married, and you don’t try any weird Dersian murder-suicide attacks on my family.” 

“All this talk of promises is very mysterious,” Dame Joey says, giving her cousin a suspicious look. “John, what are you up to?” 

“Nothing!” John says with a bad attempt at innocence.

“Why do I doubt this?” Joey asks, brows lifting with a combination of amusement and exasperation. 

“You’re a false-hearted kinswoman who cynically refuses to trust her benevolent prince?” John asks with a brightly facetious tone. John’s cousin snorts and rolls her eyes. The two are clearly fond of each other, and the familial closeness displayed so blatantly in front of him, a captive and enemy make Dave feel uncomfortable. (It’s weird, showing off a weakness like that. You don’t do that in front of strangers. You do that in front of anyone except close family. Though apparently he was destined to be close family, so maybe that’s why they were being so fucking casual in their affection.) “Anyway, we need the four wheeled device for Dave,” John continues.

Karkat, who’d been watching the exchange with the air of someone watching a ball game, says, “It’s out in the hall, I’ll go get it.” In a moment he returns with a wheelchair. 

Dave finds himself carefully lifted and settled into the wheelchair by the two knights, under the direction of John. “Should we strap you in, or are you going to refrain from attacking Da and Nanna?” John asks. His tone was flat now, and deadly serious. “Or anyone else?” 

“You have my word I won’t fight anyone who doesn’t start anything with me,” Dave says after a second or two. John nods. “Good enough,” he says. 

It’s Dame Joey who wheels him out into the corridor, with the prince and Sir Vantas flanking him. John shows him around the palace first, pointing out artwork, architecture or areas of historical significance. (“And this is where Grandmother Zhei Den’s forces broke into the palace, meanwhile Grandfather Jacob was trying to cover Grandfather Joseph’s escape. Grandmother Zhei Den dueled him right about there! Grandmother Zhei An and her warband were able to catch up with Grandfather Joseph a few days later!” 

From there he was wheeled out into the garden. The Skaian gardening design is less structured than Derse’s. There’s no broad lawns, strictly confined flower beds or carefully trimmed hedges and trees, no mazes and gazing pools. Instead everything is meant to look spontaneous and a little wild, a carefully controlled chaos, a tame little forest with stone paths and benches, little clearings full of flowers, ponds full of fish, a whimsical fountain or statue. There’s birds and squirrels, frogs splashing into the water features as they pass. “We have a little menagerie up ahead,” John says. “That’s where Jake usually is, this time of day.” 

Dave expected they would find the eldest prince wandering around the menagerie. He did not expect to find the eldest prince working with a number of palace servants in a small aviary, apparently distracting a bird the size of a pony with thick legs ending in clawed feet and a heavy beak with scraps of meat while the servants cleaned its pen. The pen was an odd little corral surrounded by a moat, the interior all grass, with piled stones and a little lean-to in the middle with a kind of manger bolted in. The eldest prince also had a large gray parrot on his shoulder. 

“There we are Baji,” the prince was saying. “You’ll have your enclosure all to yourself once we fix it all up for you.” The huge bird made strange noise like a horn, and nudged at the bucket full of meat scraps. “Yes, yes, shut up and keep the treats coming, I see how you are.” He looked up as they approached, and his eyes widened. “John, you could have waited until I was actually presentable,” the eldest prince says. “I’ve been helping in the aviary since dawn!”

“When are you ever presentable?” John asks, going up to the fence. “You think ‘covered in mud and/or animal shit’ is a fashion statement.” 

Jake snorts at this casual insult. “and what about those balls of fluff you call rabbits?” 

“They can use a sandbox, you know,” John says. “I have almost never been shat on. And the fluff makes really soft yarn. Anyway, I thought our future husband should see the wild big brother in his natural environment.” 

The elder prince looks over at Dave and smiles. It’s a warm and sunny expression that lights up his entire face. “Hello there,” he says. He might have said more, but he was briefly distracted by the immense bird, who tapped its beak against the bucket. “Yes, you’re a very patient girl, thank you for not trying to steal the container. Andou, can you take over bribing lady Baji here?” 

One of the servants came over and took the bucket from the prince, and started feeding the bird. Prince Jake in turn exited the enclosure via a gate and a bridge that crossed the moat surrounding the enclosure. “She’s a Little Forest Leaper, from the south,” Prince Jake says. He indicates the gray parrot next. “And this gentleman is Lun. Say hello!” 

“H’lo, _I looked upon the endless sea and heard the rolling of the waves_ ,” the parrot says in Alternian with surprising clarity. 

“Clever boy!” the prince praises, and fishes a walnut out of his pocket, to give the bird. “There you go,” the prince continues as the parrot delicately accepts the offering and cracks it open, holding the nut in one claw as it picks out the meat. “I’ve had Lun since I was twelve, a gift from the Alternian Ambassador. He was trained to speak random lines of poetry.” 

“Lun is also the despair of our tailors, because Jake takes him everywhere,” John says. _“Everywhere.”_

“He’s a very intelligent bird, John, he gets bored,” Jake says. “And if he gets bored he destroys everything he can get a hold of." 

“That’s what cages are for,” John says. 

“What part of ‘destroys everything’ did you miss, brother mine?” Jake asks, brows lifted in amusement. He turns to Dave. “I am sorry for leaving you out of the conversation, my dear sir,” the prince says apologetically. 

“That’s okay, I don’t know anything about parrots or giant murderbirds,” Dave says. 

Jake chuckles. “Little Forest Leapers are rather on the small end of the various terror bird species, highness,” he says. “Red Tailed Leapers and the Western Black Leapers are much bigger! I’ve always wanted a Red Tail but they really don’t do well in captivity, and I think the grooms would revolt en masse if I acquired a Western Black.” Jake measured a height that was well over his six foot frame. “That’s about where the shoulder is, on an adult male. The females are much bigger.” 

The prince gives Dave a tour through the rest of the menagerie, talking about all of the animals, their needs and diets and how they’d been acquired. Jake seemed incredibly knowledgeable, and he presented what he knew in a way that was genuinely interesting. The prince in turn questioned Dave about his interests. Was he interested in falconry? Did he hunt? Oh, he liked art? Did he paint, or sculpt? It was a constant chatter that filled Dave’s head. The man talked more than people said Dave did. 

From the menagerie, they walked back into the garden to a pavilion in the middle of a grassy “meadow.” There was a table there, filled with the sandwiches and elaborate pastries of a Skaian tea. Seated at the table was a man of middle years, and tiny, elderly Prospiti woman whose gray streaked hair was elaborately braided and pinned with jeweled sticks. The man was dressed in Skaian formal wear, and the woman was wearing a long sleeved gown with full sleeves and a high collar. “My father Zhei Huan,” Prince John says. “And my grandmother Zhei Den.” Both Jake and John bow. 

“Father, Grandmother, this is our fiancée, Prince Dave of Derse,” Prince Jake says.

“Has Derse sent their response to the wedding price and treaty offer yet?” Zhei Den asks.

It’s their father who answers, “we haven’t heard word yet, Mother. They might not agree to the treaty or consider the wedding legitimate.” 

The old woman hums thoughtfully to herself. Her mouth slants upward into a smile that looks a lot like the kind of smiles Dave has seen from the princes and princesses so far. “Well, we’ll see. Help his highness to a chair,” she says. “The queens, your future mothers-in-law are making preparations for your wedding. Isobel, Jake’s mother might be a little cold toward you. Your brother killed her husband,” she continues once Dave is seated at the table. 

Dave freezes. He’d been about the reach for sandwich, but instead he looks between the Queen Mother, the King, and Prince Jake. He withdraws his hand, and swallows, his stomach doing a slow flip. When Dirk had been only a year older than him, he’d slain a Prospiti general, half-brother of the barbarian king, Zhei Osen. Dirk had taken the man’s head and sent it back to Derse, to be displayed there.

“Mother,” the king says, giving his mother a look of mild reproof. “You’re not being fair to Isobel. And do you think Dhua Shen is going to be any less cold at first? They both loved Osen.” 

The old woman clicks her tongue, a dismissive sort of sound. 

“So not everyone’s for the wedding,” Dave says. “That’s something that is absolutely no surprise at all.” He swallows. “Seems like decapitation and sending my head back in a box would be more likely than a marriage proposal.”

“It was a battle,” Jake says. “I’m not happy that my father’s body was treated so, but I know that your brother otherwise fought honorably. Prospiti practice air-burial, anyway,” he says with a casual air. “It’s usually the case that the bodies are broken up at the funerary site, inside a special tower for the crows and buzzards. So it was very nearly like he did part of the work for the shaman already.” The prince smiles coldly, and something seems to flicker in his green eyes. 

Air burial. That meant they left corpses out in the open, to be torn apart by carrion eaters, instead of burying or burning them. Dave felt himself go cold, thinking about rotting corpses in the sun. An experience he’d started to become familiar with, in the past few months before his capture. “You just let buzzards scatter the bones like crows picking on a hanged man’s corpse what the fuck oh god and maybe you think decently burying or burning is some kind of horrible thing you only do to enemies or something oh god you are all backward and sidefuckways. Oh god.” 

The slightly mean smile on the prince’s face, turns to a more concerned look. This is great, but actually embarrassing, because the stream of random horrified bullshit keeps coming. Dave’s aware he’s saying extremely stupid shit, but he can’t make it stop as his brain presents various horrifying things that goes right out of his mouth, with no fucking intervention. Someone comes up from behind, and shakes his shoulder. “Hey,” the gravelly voice says. “You’re not going to get decapitated. Also, they don’t just leave corpses out in the middle of nowhere, his highness just _told you that_ ,” Sir Vantas says. “Shut up, and breathe,” he says. 

Dave shuts up and breathes. “Gods,” he says. “Why would you want to marry the brother of the man _who killed your father_?”

“Grandmothers married the sons of the king they killed,” John says. “So it’s not really that strange.”

“John,” Zhei Huan says sternly. “He is also your ancestor. Don’t be disrespectful.” 

John hunches in his seat “I’m sorry Father,” he says. 

Zhei Huan’s eyebrows lift. “Am I the one you should be apologizing to? Or to Grandmothers worthy and honorable opponent, the father of your Grandfathers?”

John bows, and slips out of the chair and absconds. 

“He’s a good boy,” Zhei Huan says. 

“Jake’s an irascible little brat though,” Dame Joey murmurs. 

“I’m hardly little, cousin,” Jake protests. “I’m taller than you.” 

“Don’t care,” Dame Joey says. “If you horrify my charge again, I’ll ask my brother to booby trap your quarters again.” 

“An apology wouldn’t hurt either,” Sir Vantas says pointedly. 

The elder prince sighs. “I’m sorry, your highness,” he says. “I approve of my siblings’ choice of our first spouse, and I am _hopeful_ that the king of Derse agrees to a ceasefire of this war. I truly don’t hold any anger toward your brother. I gave into a terrible impulse when I saw your reactions to the concept of air-burial and it was incredibly cruel and crass of me to push on memories that were disturbing to you.”

 _Push on memories._ “You’re some kind of mage?” Dave asks. The Dersite royal families were strong in magic, but the Skaian royalty hadn’t been, particularly. But they weren't entirely Skaian, were they?

“Almost everyone in the family has talent of some sort,” Jake says. “May I pour you some tea?” he asks. 

Dave nods, and Jake pours him a cup, handing it to him. “Thanks,” Dave says. The rest of tea time is spent answering questions from Jake’s grandmother and father. (Step father? Secondary father? How did it even work?)


	3. Chapter 3

Rose Lalonde, princess of Derse watches the so-called wedding in a sunlit mirror. She’s trying to breathe in slow, calming breaths, but it feels more like she’s breathing fire. Dave’s in Skaian courtier’s garb, hose and doublet, all in shades of red. There’s a soft velvet cap on his head decorated with a spray of black feathers from a brooch attached to the jeweled band of the cap. Dave seems dazed as he exchanges whatever marriage oaths the barbarians speak. Is he drugged? Do the fine clothes conceal whatever coercion must have taken to get him to agree to this farce of a marriage? 

Rose Lalonde watches from hundreds of miles away, safe in her tower rooms while her brother is sold into a false marriage. There was perhaps a certain irony here. It was usually princesses who were traded away in state marriages, not princes. (Would Dave send her letters joking about this? Would he be allowed to write? Was she ever going to see her twin brother again?) 

The wedding continues, Dave giving his marriage oaths to each of the barbarian princesses and princes of Skaia. It seems to involve a cup exchanged between the bride and groom, then some sort of libation to each of the four directions. There were two elderly drummers, who walked around and between the brides and grooms, and what might have been singing. Then there was the lighting of a fire, and the burning of some sort of food offering. 

From there, the wedding party walks to a pavilion where a feast has been laid out on long tables. Rose can see her sister Roxy in the wedding party, apparently calm and not at all horrified by this farce. She’s even smiling, talking to one of their brother’s brides. Didn’t Roxy even care that their father was selling their brother in exchange for peace with these barbarians who’d usurped the throne of one of Derse’s closest allies? 

Rose realizes she isn’t being fair. Of course Roxy would need to be polite; this was a state marriage for peace between the Prospiti and Derse. Roxy could be polite, which is why it had been Roxy, and not Rose who had gone to the wedding. Roxy had also very kindly taken one of Rose’s mirrors with her, so that she could see the wedding. (Which she would not have been able to do otherwise, since Rose would be otherwise blocked by Roxy’s talents of Void.) 

The Prospiti were all strong with various magical talents. The younger prince and princess were aligned with Space and Breath; the elder pair were Life and Hope. They were bright lights that Roxy’s quiet Void powers drank in, that seemed to drown out Dave’s still latent gifts of Time. They were strong in magic, despite the fact that the Skaian Royal family had little if any magic, and the princes they were supposedly descended from had none at all. Rose was speculating on the possible legitimacy of the current Heirs when something terrifying happened. 

The sunlit room darkened from clouds as the feast continued, and the wind began to rise, though the images in Rose’s mirror were still clear. Then at one point the youngest Prospiti prince looked directly at her in the mirror, and _winks._ Rose’s heart jolted in her chest, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. _“How had he seen her?!”_ some instinct shrilled. Her mind at the same time babbled reassurance. He couldn’t have seen her. He was obviously winking at someone out of view of the mirror. 

But no, he was grinning widely in the mirror, but no one else came into view. His mouth moved, forming words. Out of sync with his mouth movements she could hear a whispering voice like the wind through the trees, yet also merry and warm. A Prospiti sorcerer should not sound so pleasant, Rose thought. “Hello princess, enjoying the wedding?” The voice asked. 

“I hardly consider this barbarian ritual a wedding,” Rose says coldly. “Whatever my father has decided. This is a farce.” 

“Aww,” the prince says, looking disappointed. “And Dave was more worried that your father would hate the idea of this wedding, not that his sister would.”

Rose felt a pang, remembering how Father had so readily dismissed the idea of rescuing Dave. “He’s no warrior like Dirk, that’s clear,” the king had said. “Still, it’s not entirely a loss. Let the barbarians have the boy and their treaty, for now at least.” (He hadn’t meant rescue Dave at a later date that became clear when she broached the subject.) “There was no wedding, Dave would never have consented to lie with barbarian _bitches_.”

“Oooh, alliterative,” John says. “Also kind of bitchy! I’m glad the Derse king sent your sister. She seems really friendly and diplomatic, not like you at all. Jane’s really taken with her, and likewise!” He wiggled his eyebrows in a mockingly suggestive leer. “Maybe she’ll stick around for a while after the wedding and be Janie’s sweet little kitten?” 

Rose felt her face heat, and her hands wrap up into fists. “You’re disgusting,” she says to the boy in the mirror. 

John grins. “Hey, you started it,” he says. “And I’ll finish it, sister-by-law.” He lifts his hand, and slaps it down with great force. The wind outside the tower suddenly shrieks, and the mirror cracks and goes black, showing no reflection at all. Not of the wedding feast, nor anything in the tower room. Rose stares in furious horror at the mirror, casts spell after spell, but nothing restores the mirror.

It doesn’t stop there. For days after, Rose is haunted by…sounds. Low chuckles, breathless gasps, her twin’s voice talking almost too low to make out the words. His usual nervous, awkward jokes, the familiar way he always responded to teasing, the foolish winding metaphors. Occasionally there’s also John’s voice saying things like, “sounds like he’s having a good time, hey?”

Rose is filled with humiliation and rage. “How _dare_ you invade his privacy like this,” she snarls under her breath after the third night of waking to the sounds of her brother being debauched. _“How dare you?”_

“Technically, I’m invading my own privacy, since these are my memories,” John’s voice whispers. 

“Do you think it would matter to him?” Rose asks furiously. “If I needed any further proof this was no legitimate marriage this would be it.” 

“Are you a romantic, princess?” John’s voice asks. “Was he actually betrothed and that’s why you’re so angry?” 

“I’m angry because your sister shot my brother’s horse out from under him, and instead of letting him be ransomed, or putting him to any honest labor, he’s whoring for Prospiti barbarians,” Rose says. Would her father even have paid the ransom? Rose was beginning to doubt. “That’s why I’m angry you bastard.” 

“I have no idea how to unpack that,” John’s voice whispers. He sounds completely dumbfounded, and no little horrified. “You think that way about your own brother?” He sounds as if he’s offended. He dares to sound protective of Dave. As if she were what her brother needed to be protected from. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Rose says viciously. “It’s what the court is saying.” It was what even their father was saying. Dismissive and amused concerning the barbarians, while keeping the goods they had given him and sending the horses and sheep to his properties. 

“Huh,” John’s voice says, and nothing more. The whispering of the wind fades away.

Rose is left feeling cold despite the warm comfort of her bed, her eyes stinging with tears. 

Roxy returns with gifts from the Prospiti heirs. Rose’s gift is a velvet cloak trimmed with snow leopard fur. The clasp is two snow leopards rampant, their eyes tiny chips of amethyst. Roxy’s gift is a Alternian music box with a little clockwork dancer, and little drums that could be switched out to change the tune. Dirk’s gift is a fine silvery gray stallion with a white mane and tail. It was kitted out with a heavily tooled leather saddle, a matching bridle and a blanket embroidered with a scene of mounted falconers hunting deer with eagles. 

The king receives a letter. Whatever is in the letter puts in their father in no good mood, but Rose notices that the courtiers stop making jokes about Dave. Rose doesn’t know what to think. (She isn’t willing to feel grateful. She definitely doesn’t feel any urge to thank her Prospiti “brother-by-law” for whatever the contents of the letter were.)

In winter, the capital of Derse is full of nobles fleeing the frozen countryside to have parties, make alliances and arrange marriages. This is the “Season,” where reputations were made or broken, where new fashions became the rage, and old ones were put aside. It was the first Season without her twin brother, and she had yet to hear from him. She did not know if he had been forbidden to write, or if the king was for whatever reason, not giving her or her siblings Dave’s letters. Either possibility worried her, but she wasn’t quite ready to bring her thoughts to her elder brother, even if it had been months since they had heard anything from him.

The Season was the peak time to arrange marriages and Rose knew she was just about the age to get married, but then so was her older sister. Their father was being remarkably cagey about finding them a husband, while still having them preside at fetes and masques. (Roxy did most of the presiding. Rose mostly people watched and occasionally danced.) 

It was at one such masque where she stood a little aside, watching her brother chat with one of the young noblewomen being thrown at him as potential future wives. Even with the elaborate half-mask which obscured his features and lent him the appearance of a bird spirit; Rose could tell he was bored out of his mind. She was looking for an excuse to rescue him when a young man dressed all in blue, his entire face obscured by a wolf mask. She couldn’t even make out his eyes behind the eyeholes of the mask. Instead, the holes were covered by green gauze. “Frost-spirit, will you dance with me?” the young man asks.

“I’m supposed to be a lynx-spirit,” Rose says, indicating the tufted ears and her snarling cat-mask. 

The young man laughs, and she can quite clearly hear his grin. “Who’s to say a frost-spirit couldn’t look like a cat, or a lovely woman?” 

“You must be a spirit yourself, if you can see past the mask to the woman,” Rose says. “Or perhaps you call all women lovely, in flattery.” Despite her comment, she held out her hand, and allowed the young man in blue to lead her to the dance floor. 

The young man was quite charming, and an excellent dancer, very light on his feet. They spoke on a number of topics, from history to politics. After an hour another nobleman came to ask her to dance, and the young man in blue disappeared. Even with the new partner, and the partner after that, she could not stop thinking of the young man in the wolf-mask, and how he had not hinted after wanting her name, and how she had not thought to ask after his. 

When she returned to her rooms, there was a letter on her writing desk. She snatched it up and broke the seal, falling ungracefully into her chair. It rambled in a familiar fashion, red ink and splotches, crossed out words and sentences in her brother’s messy hand. He told her about the palace menagerie, and his wives and husbands. He asked if she liked the cloak, he had it commissioned for her. He assured her no one was reading over his shoulder several times, even if everyone in Skaia were nosey with no concept of privacy probably because of coming from people who lived in tents. (He assured her he was not currently living in a tent.) He sent her sketches of his wives and husbands. And something rather concerning: I tried to lie about being a prince but they were not buying it, but they pretended to believe me and they halfway had one of their mothers convinced everyone was so damned confused. But as a result one of my mothers in law doesn’t want to poison me so even trade.

“What in the world,” Rose murmured, and re-read that part of the letter. It still didn’t make sense. 

Anyway enclosed in the letter is a little stone disk. You can use it to send letters. For some reason my spouses do not trust our Dersite post despite their willingness to go forth despite dangers untold to deliver the mail. Tell Roxy. And Dirk. Please write soon.  The stone disk is thin and delicately carved with the head of a wolf. According to Dave’s directions, one simply set the sealed letter on the disk, and it would be transported to the intended recipient. 

Rose shows the disk and the letter to her brother and sister during breakfast the next day, after some teasing from Dirk. “It was cruel, abandoning me like that,” Dirk says, in a flatly monotone voice. “Betrayed, and by my own dear sister. You were supposed to rescue me from the predatory clutches of would-be brides and their advantage-seeking fathers.”

“It wasn’t Rose’s fault,” Roxy says. “She was diverted by an ambuscade on her heart.” Roxy puts her hand to her heart in a dramatic gesture. “I don’t think you’ve ever danced so long with a suitor before.” 

“I haven’t,” Rose admits grudgingly. “There was no exchange of names,” she says, and dislikes the defensiveness she hears in her own tone. “So he was no suitor.” 

“Father won’t be pleased that you spent so long with someone, and didn’t even learn their name,” Dirk warns. 

“Yes Dirk,” Rose says with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. “I know. I’ve been most dutiful otherwise, so he shouldn’t begrudge me one pleasant evening.”

“Pleasant?” Roxy asks, voice nearly a crow of amusement. “Dirk, our little sister is growing up!” 

There was absolutely nothing that Rose could say, that Roxy would not twist into something suggestive and terrible. Face heating, she presented the letter. “I found this in my room.”

Roxy starts to tease her about love letters, but her face turns serious when she see the seal, and reads the contents. “Oh,” she says. “Of course, Dave said something about sending letters to us. Privately, not officially.” 

“If we can trust anything he says,” Rose says. 

“Rose, you saw the wedding, did he seem hurt to you?” Roxy asks. “I spoke to him, he was nervous, but he didn’t give me any sign he was unwilling, and you know I would have taken him if I thought he was.”

“I saw that he looked drugged,” Rose says. “I heard vile things from the court concerning the ‘wedding’ which Dirk did nothing to curb.”

“Curbing the court would have involved curbing father,” Dirk says. “You saw how well I did in persuading him Dave wasn’t ready for a campaign. Do you really think I could have made him stop saying vile things about our brother?” 

“He wasn’t drugged,” Roxy says. “Tipsy, perhaps. It was fermented mare’s milk. He was also very nervous, his prospective spouses seemed to enjoy teasing him!” Roxy actually grins at that, and shakes her head. “Jane says it was all quite traditional, but I think she thought her little brother and sister were being brats.”

“You should have taken him,” Rose says. She did not want to hear about anything involving ‘Jane says.’ At all. “I would have.” 

Roxy smiles, a little wryly. “Probably why you weren’t sent, Rosa-lily.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Rose says, annoyed.

“Rosie? Rosamund? Rosethorn?” Roxy asks with the innate mockery of an elder sister. 

Rose makes an irritated sound and tosses her napkin at Roxy, who barely seems to move as she dodges it. Rose is considering throwing a fork, but Dirk frowns at her. “Rose,” he says. “As glad I am that Dave sent us a letter, I don’t trust how you received it. Would you object to my keeping this stone disk? I’d like to examine it.”

“I’m not exactly trusting either,” Rose says. “But this is the first letter we’ve gotten from him. Don’t do anything to the stone that will damage it.”

Dirk nods. “I’ll be careful.” 

“I’ll make sure he’s careful,” Roxy says with a slight grin at their older brother’s offended look. “You aren’t nearly as good at spell crafting as you think you are,” she continues.

A few weeks later there was another masque hosted by Roxy, and Rose attended, wearing the brilliant flame colors of the phoenix, with a matching mask. She danced with the son of a duke, a baron, and a general, all of whom named themselves, and who identified her immediately. (To her displeasure.) She’s retreated to a bench by the wall to nibble on tiny meat pies and drink wine when she’s approached by a young man in blue, dressed as a Skaian knight of the old kingdom, before it had been invaded. “Lady of the Sunrise?” a familiar voice asks. 

“I’m a phoenix,” Rose says. “You’ve guessed wrong again.” For it was the same young man who had been the wolf-spirit. 

The knight gives a short little laugh. “But they’re associated with beginnings, and so is the dawn, so I was close, right?” There’s a sort of teasing hopefulness that makes Rose smile. 

“No,” she says. (The knight pantomimes exaggerated dismay, hand to his heart.) “You’re in character at least, if you’re naming the Lady of Sunrise. She was once a favored goddess in Skaia.” 

“She still is, as far as I know, Lady,” the knight says. 

“It’s said that the Prospiti barbarians destroyed temples and shrines,” Rose says. “That sounds like the opposite of favor to me.” 

“They are barbarians,” the knight says with a solemn shake of his head. “The Prospiti. Like magpies and crows, really. Some of those temples and monasteries were very shiny. It’s said.” 

“It’s terrible you can joke about the invasion,” Rose says, but she snorts a laugh at the same time. She imagines John, not as a crow or magpie, but a blue jay. 

“I grew up near the border,” the knight says. “You had to laugh, or you’d scream sometimes, because it always seemed like the land changed hands every few months.”

“How--how bad was it?” Rose asked. She’d heard reports of course, but this was someone who claimed to have been there.

“Bad enough,” the knight said. “People were going hungry, and sickness would pass through more easily because everyone was hungry, or fighting.” 

“Are you actually a knight?” Rose asks. “Or a soldier? Were you there for the last skirmish between Derse and the Prospiti?” 

“I’m the heir of a small holding on the border,” the knight says. “I and a few of my armsmen were aligned with the army and his highness’ men. I did not see the exact moment when the barbarian princess captured the prince. He seemed to be very brave, and clever, if inexperienced the few times I saw him.” 

“He was brave. He was not yet ready for command on the border,” Rose says and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” the knight says. “I did not mean to upset you. Did you know him?” 

“He’s my brother,” Rose says, admits, because the knight surely could not have known her, given the anonymity of the mask. This seems to be confirmed by his silence.

“Oh, forgive me your highness,” the young man says. He starts to get up, but Rose briefly touches his arm, and he stills. 

“You weren’t disturbing me,” Rose says. “I found your company quite congenial.” 

“I am not quite the equal to your rank, your highness,” the young man says humbly. 

“I really don’t care,” Rose says. She really didn’t, either. Father might, but she found she didn’t care about that either. “Stay and talk to me a little longer.”

“As you wish, highness,” the knight says dubiously. 


End file.
